


Inclement Weather

by SoulJelly



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Fluff, Libraries, M/M, Magic, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 17:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulJelly/pseuds/SoulJelly
Summary: In which a scholarly wizard procrastinates on his research paper, a feline librarian is very particular about the rules, and romance brews in a - quite literal - perfect storm.





	Inclement Weather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadow_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/gifts).



> Hello! Your prompt snagged at my imagination in just the right way, and this story sort of spiralled out of that. It's been a while since I forayed into original fiction writing and I'll hopefully get some time to edit this further at a later date, but it is absolutely complete for now. Thank you for the opportunity to write this, I had a lot of fun and I really hope it's something that fits what you were looking for.

Nahzar had spent barely a week studying in the stacks of the Ska Reau City Library - known colloquially as the Knowledgearium - when he began to feel that someone, or something, was watching him.

He had quickly begun to feel at home amongst the labyrinth of dusty tomes, the smell of parchment and leather and strange magics. Every morning Nahzar would settle in at the desk he had claimed as his own, planting a freshly-hunted pile of books beside him with a satisfying thud. He would open the first one slowly, his fingers admiring the gold embossing and the slightly raised ink, or perhaps he would peer inside to see which wizards had borrowed this volume before him. He would try to guess at the particulars of their craft by the shape of each unique casting seal etched beside the return dates. And of course, he tried to focus on his studies.

Now, the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. There was something disapproving in the gaze that followed him; Nahzar felt suddenly and acutely aware of his ankles crossed at the edge of the desk. Slowly he lowered his feet to the floor and sat up straighter, trying to appear nonchalant as he did so.

There was the sound of footsteps, soft feet as though without shoes. Nazhar could have sworn he heard a voice, an irritated huff and a dry comment of something like ‘Much better’.

It was all over in a moment.

Naz waited for some time. The only sounds that remained were typical of the library, those of the city muffled through the thick stone walls as Ska Reau bustled with tourists in the height of summer, and the quiet rustling of pages like autumn leaves as readers searched through books many shelves away. Underpinned, always, with the soft ethereal whisperings of magic.

Curiously, the footsteps and the voice that had so unsettled Nahzar had come from high up in the stacks where the shelves stretched up into shadow and no human could scale without aid of a ladder or a strong levitation spell. Naz looked around. There was no ladder in sight and a spell could not have been cast without his notice.

It was intriguing to be sure, but his books beckoned. After a moment’s pause Naz shrugged and returned to his work.

\--

 

The kinds of friendships made between the Stacks - capitalised reverently by their patrons - were quiet ones, borne of soft smiles and a camaraderie of scholarly woes. Naz bumped into these studious fellows on occasion and their faces gradually became welcome and familiar. There was the girl with hair like a lion’s mane set aflame, thunderously tall and able to be counted on to reach some of the higher shelves. There was the scholar with their thick bottle glasses who was evidently from of far out of town, if their propensity for ridiculous fashions was anything to go by. On occasion, they all met for drinks in one of the many taverns around the centre of Ska Reau. He brought up the subject of being watched on occasion, but no one could guess as to who it might be.

Conversely it was easy to browse for days on end, as Naz quite often did, and not see a single soul. Whether this was down to some magic that facilitated quiet and privacy, or the deliberate elusiveness of the library’s other patrons on particularly tight deadlines, he couldn’t be quite sure. As it was, Naz was left largely to his own devices, using library-sanctioned summoning spells, helper orbs and his own wits to find the books he was looking for. Despite the lack of staff the shelves always seemed to be clean and any missed scraps of parchment or ink spills were always cleared away by the day’s end.

It was another fun mystery but not one that Nahar had much time for. For the umpteenth time he unrolled the parchment on his desk and frowned at the calendar. Two months to finish his research and return to Jah-Zuh with his findings; from there, another two weeks to write his paper if he even had a hope of getting it published.

“If only,” Nahzar said aloud to himself just to break the pervasive quiet. “If only this archive weren’t quite so full of completely fascinating, yet entirely irrelevant books. If only I had an attention span that had less in common with a hummingbird’s.” Without even a trace of irony, he broke off from his spiel to read in fascination the spine of a book that floated by him and jotted the title down on an ever-growing ‘to read’ list.

He heaved a large sigh. It pushed a passing helper orb a little off-course and it bumped into a nearby pillar. Gently nudging it back in the direction of the section it was pursuing, Naz swivelled in his chair, considered for a moment and then swung himself to his feet. A walk would help, he decided, and began to wander aimlessly through the Stacks.

He rounded a corner and came upon a large window flooded with sunlight. A plush, squashy sofa was situated underneath it and sleeping curled upon the cushions was a man. He was handsome, a little pale with reddish-brown hair. The thing that really drew Naz’s attention though, were the tail and ears that twitched as he dreamed.

A sound of surprise escaped Nazhar, a sharp syllable uttered just a little too loudly.

The man’s ears twitched. A shudder ran across his fur. He cracked open first one eye, then the other and abruptly sat up.

“You woke me,” the man said accusingly. Now Nahzar could see the loose embroidered cloth pants typical of Ska Reau city fashion. On his top half the stranger wore a white shirt, button open at the collar, and a loosened silk tie. He had a name badge too, but Nahzar wasn’t close enough to read it. The stranger’s shoulders hunched; Naz realised he was embarrassed at being caught.

The stranger’s voice was deep, very male and rich and soft as velvet if sound could possess such a quality.

“Light sleeper?” Naz tried to joke. He faltered at the stranger’s thunderous expression. “I mean, uh. I’m really sorry.”

The stranger scowled. He yawned and stretched, the motions making him seem more catlike than ever as his tail swung agitatedly about his legs. “Excessive noise is against library rules.”

“I wouldn’t say it was excessive,” Naz countered, but the stranger spoke on as though he wasn’t there.

“Not that you have the best regard for library rules. Not too bad, better than most but.. Clumsy, unkempt. Terrible posture.”

Naz blushed.

The stranger stalked past him, casting a disapproving glare as he did so.

“Wait,” said Naz, recovering his senses. “Who are you? And how do you even know-”

He realised that he had just solved the mystery of who had been watching him from the Stacks.

-

Nahzar often took lunch in one of the street-side cafes that peppered Ska Reau and this was where Thanar found him a day later. The tall, commanding lady with skin the colour of the sea drew many stares as she brushed past tables to cast Naz in her impressive shadow.

“Naz!” she boomed, delivering a clap like thunder to Nahzar’s shoulder which almost sent him flying face-first into his plate. “How goes the research?”

“Not too bad, thank you,” he replied politely, gesturing for her to sit even as she began to help herself to a chair. “Thought I must admit, I feel somewhat overwhelmed by the amount of books here. I knew the Knowledgarium was impressive, but…”

Thanar laughed. “Hearing of it and seeing it are entirely different things, it’s true.” She winked. “There’s a reason people travel far and wide to see it and would sell their seal to get in.”

“Speaking of… I feel like I never really thanked you properly for your letter. I mean, your recommendation was everything to my getting to study here, and-”

Thanar dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “You’ve thanked me plenty enough. Just make sure you get outside sometimes and see the city while you’re here.” She smiled fondly at him and grabbed at a menu, concentrating hard.

“I have a question,” said Naz. “If you don’t mind?”

Thanar turned her gaze on him again and he felt his knees buckled under the intensity of the powerful wizard. Even though they had a few years of history now, and could be considered friends, he never failed to feel impressed every time he met her.

“I just wondered… if you’d ever seen a feline man in the library?”

Thanar laughed. “You’ve met Mr Ollivar? He’s very elusive. I’m surprised!”

“Sometimes he…” Naz hesitated over the words, grimacing. “Sometimes he appears just to grumble about my ‘library conduct’. “

Thanar laughed heartily. “Well, he is the library’s primary caretaker, and trust me, he takes his job very seriously. He prefers to remain out of sight most of the time though. A few little bits of magic that make it so people don’t really notice him. He must have taken a shine to you to have made himself more obvious.”

She grinned in a way that made Naz blush even deeper, for reasons he couldn’t be quite sure of. He averted the situation the only way he could think of - by hiding behind the nearest menu.

-

The Stacks seemed at once to trap and repel heat, depending on where one walked.

Nazhar had made a valiant attempt at an early start this morning after a few too many meads the night before. He drained his cup of coffee at the library’s entrance and the doorway’s Cleaning Charms were just extracting the last bit of sand from his robes as the clock struck nine.

The city of Ska Reau was carved of sand and stone, dry with dust until the rainy season when the heavens opened and it drank up downpour after downpour with greed. The abundance of sunshine made it almost seem like home, although Nazhar did still sometimes miss the tufty grass and sunset-coloured blossoms and the broad flat rubbery leaves under whose shelter he often took long walks. His little hometown was now such a long way away.

Now he shivered and pulled his robes about himself as he strode down an aisle of books about ice quality in the North. All of his research about weather and elemental magic lead to some very technical papers to read, and some of those more interesting than others.

Since his run-in with the man, Ollivar, he had been taking more care than ever to be an upstanding library patron (and to fix his own posture, as admittedly, long hours spent slouched over books meant his back was really starting to hurt.)

He loved the Stacks. Having grown up in a small town where books were rare, battered commodities pilfered from traders’ carts, to now be surrounded with such an abundance of them still felt like a dream. Each was their own little world waiting to be explored, knowledge waiting to be devoured. Even in his previous years of study, he had never encountered any collection of books as vast and varied as that which the Knowledgearium contained. This place stood at the centre of the continent like some huge monument to all of Naz’s hopes and dreams, but he could have never have hoped to come here. Until now.

So what followed a few days later really set him off-kilter for a while.

-

It was always a relief to remove oneself from the blistering heat. Naz enjoyed the city but there was a reason he so often came indoors, and it was due in large part to just how much he hated the feel of sweat trickling down his back, sticking skin to skin and ruining his clothes.  
On this occasion the heat had been just too stifling, particularly by the marketplace where reams of clustering bodies jostled for the attention of food vendors. Naz shuddered at the memory of hot breath in his face and sharp elbows in his stomach.

As it was, he’d grabbed his food in a box to-go and carried it with him, spooning great mouthfuls of noodles and vegetables into his mouth. His eyes streamed with the heat from the spices, but Naz enjoyed the taste too much to care. The portion size was huge however, and he’d soon found that it was a little much for him to manage at such an early hour. The box was reverently closed and placed into his bag for later consumption.

Nazhar was relieved to step into the gentle breeze of the library. There was always a cool breeze with no tangible source. It smelled faintly of salt and windmills, so he assumed it was captured and imported from the sea. Naz felt a sudden longing for the crash of waves over his head and seaflowers beneath his feet. He sighed, released the notion, and carried himself to his usual table.

What Naz hadn’t realised was just how strong his breakfast smelled. He thought it was just him, remembering with an overt fondness the mixture of plants and spices and anticipating eating the remainder for lunch, but there it was, wafting up at him tantalisingly each time he opened his bag. And then Ollivar appeared, in the space it took Nahzar to blink.

Ollivar’s nose twitched. Before Naz could explain, Ollivar pounced on him, powerful thighs flexing as he leapt over the chair and grabbed Naz by the wrist.

“You idiot,” Ollivar hissed. Naz cringed away, but Ollivar held him close. He could see the startling depths of Ollivar’s golden eyes, the lightly furred chest under his slightly open shirt, the powerful cut of his jaw which was now clenched in fury. “You do not bring food into this place! Do you have any idea how many mice I find on a daily basis hunting the last bit of crumbs some idiot has left because they think the rules don’t apply to them?”

Naz shivered at the fury in Ollivar’s voice. Sweat was trickling uncomfortably down his back. He saw the way the magic shifted around Ollivar, that subtle way that morphed his features between human and feline but now the effect was heightened. Naz saw the fangs when Ollivar bared his teeth. His head was tilted such that the librarian’s teeth were inches from his neck. His tail lashed angrily, slapping the back of Naz’s legs.

“Consider this a warning,” Ollivar said, voice deep. “Next time I will have you banned.”

Naz opened his mouth to apologise but Ollivar released him quickly, flinging him away. Naz collided painfully with the edge of a table and by the time he had regained his balance, the librarian had bounded away into the shadows of the Stacks.

-

For weeks, Naz fretted about Ollivar’s warning. Honest mistake though it had been, he knew how obsessively the straight-laced librarian cared for the vast archives, and even if he thought Ollivar’s reaction was a little harsh, there was nothing he could do to change how things had played out. The fear of suspension from the Stacks plus his looming academic deadlines made for a poisonous combination.

Sleep began to slip out of reach; Naz would settle into bed only to find his mind racing the moment he closed his eyes. When he did sleep, it was fitful and full of dreams of failure: research projects unfinished, academic career in flames.

When he didn’t dream of these things, Naz would dream instead of strong arms and sharp fangs and dark golden eyes. He would wake sweating, panting, hard as a stone golem and grasping at himself beneath the sheets.

It had all become rather complicated all of a sudden.

-

The Knowledgarium was open at all hours, which was fortunate given Naz’s recent foray into nocturnality.

Patrons were scurrying past him down the steps as he approached, their full day’s work completed; a handful of others tricked in the doors beside him. They gave one another conspiratorial smiles, a self-aware bashfulness about them that said, ‘Yeah, sucks we have to pull an all-nighter, but what can you do?”

Naz grasped a sheet of parchment in one hand with notes and chapter outlines and titles of books he hadn’t read yet. He already had the basic outline of the lunar cycle’s effect on electro-magical energy waves, not to mention a case study on the wizard Order of Lustre (complete with two first-hand accounts from wizards who lived after the order was brutally disbanded). Now he just needed enough content for a chapter on how magical energy was affected by seasonal changes. 

“Okay, Naz,” he muttered to himself. “You’ve got this, just focus.”

He opened the first book.

He stared it at blankly, anxiety clouding his brain. Then he read three pages before realising nothing he had read was sinking in. Frustration fought desperation as Naz’s body wound tight as a coiled spring.

Deep breaths, Naz, he told himself. You’re smart, you can do this.

His fingers twitched as he worked a basic calming spell. The magic settled over him soft as gossamer, his mind growing still as a morning lakefront.

Ink in hand, he began to write.

-

Sometime later Naz was wandering the Stacks once more in search of new books. The more tenacious ones had to be hunted down, cornered and bound closed with string or magic. Some fluttered infuriatingly out of reach, daring you to climb a shelf to reach them. Others still were collected in small hollows or sub-rooms, behind subtle doors.

One of these doors opened not-so-subtly, and Naz flung out an arm wildly as he screamed his surprise.

“Son of a blithering Gnarg!” came a cry. The door had burst open with a smattering of water and an incredibly soaked through cat. Ollivar was muttering to himself, hissing his words between gritted teeth. “It’s been raining in the Weather Section again. Damnit.”

Ollivar’s golden eyes were narrowed, their pupils inky slits. He was drenched, fur turned dark with water and his ears plastered back along his head. His tail bristled, swung wildly, hurled a splattering of raindrops in Naz’s direction. Naz bit his lip as the rain stained his robes dark but refrained, wisely, from making comment.

“And you,” Ollivar hissed, as though Naz being the one witness to his humiliation made it so much worse. “Why you have to be here is beyond me.”

Naz thought for a long moment about spinning on his heel and going back the way he had come. His gaze swept over Ollivar, the twitching ears, bristling tail, the sodden shirt clinging to the surprisingly toned muscles of his chest. His glasses fogged up with condensation. The look of frustration mingled with abject misery.

With a swish of fabric, Ollivar found a warm scarf around his shoulders. A murmur of something that crackled and whispered like flame, as a warming spell passed over Nazhar’s lips and sent a soft rush of warmth right through Ollivar’s bones. At last Naz turned away, still not speaking a word, just the gentle hesitant offer of a tiny smile.

Ollivar watched him go with a swish of his robes. The fanged man bit his lip, tail swishing about his legs. Then he drew the fabric more tightly around him, a sharp musky smell tickling his nostrils. If he inhaled a little more deeply than he should have, and if he often held that piece of fabric in his hands afterwards, absorbing the scent until it eventually faded, well… no one was there to witness it.

\--

“Here.”

The single word was followed by a heavy thud of book on desk.

Naz wasn’t expecting to see the librarian again quite so soon, but Ollivar found him the next evening as he was reading a slightly damp volume about precipitation levels in the northern hemisphere.

“There you go,” the feline man said without preamble, indicating to the book he had just dropped onto the desk. “Found this miscategorised in Section J. I saw it was on your reading list.”

Naz stared at him.

“What?” Ollivar asked.

“Nothing, just… I thought you were angry with me.” He cringed. It sounded petulant, put like that.

“Ah, yes. The incident the other day. Well, I admit I may have been a little… strong in my reaction.” Ollivar shifted uncomfortably. “I’d had run-ins with four other patrons that day for similar grievances; you were the final straw.”

“I’m sorry,” Naz said.

Ollivar waved a hand dismissively.

The relief was palpable. Naz felt his shoulders untighten as much of his anxiety washed away. He was also painfully aware that he was grinning like an idiot, and his face was flushed red. Somewhere in his mind were thoughts of the other dreams he had recently had, but he fought those down.

“Thanks,” Naz said. He watched, impressed, as the librarian sprung easily into the upper shelves and began to busy himself dusting books. “So,” Naz called after him, careful to moderate his voice to a respectable volume. “You manage this place all by yourself?”

“More or less.” Ollivar sprung back down, landing gracefully and silently on his feet. His tail flicked sharply out to the side. Naz stared at it, fascinated; realising a moment later that might be rude, he turned pointedly back to Ollivar’s face.

Talk turned to Nahzar’s research; any attempt he made to find out more about the librarian was in vain, as the conversation was always steered firmly away from any personal topics. So it was that they reached a point that Nahzar had been meaning to mention.

“I’ve heard that the Knowledgarium has a working lunar model, but I haven’t been able to find it anywhere.”

“That’s correct,” said Ollivar. “It’s in for repairs at the moment. Though…” he trailed off a moment, pressed one furred hand to his face in thought. “I may be able to arrange something, if you give me a couple of days.”

“Really?”

Ollivar blinked slowly at him. “Yes. You sound surprised. Suspicious, even.”

Naz almost laughed. “Up until a few moments ago, I was terrified you were going to ban me from the archives forever.”

Ollivar scoffed. “Well, your conduct has improved considerably. I haven’t smelt so much as a crumb on you since that day. Furthermore, you did extend kindness where you did not have to. I have decided you deserve a second chance.”

“Thank you,” Naz said. “I really appreciate it. I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour if I get to see the lunar model.”

Again, he was met with that slow blink, followed by a lingering, appraising gaze. Naz felt goosebumps rise up his arms and hoped that they went unnoticed. Unwittingly, his gaze flickered back to the tail which was now slung casually about Ollivar’s calves.

“I must be going,” Ollivar said after a moment. Sharp, like he was cutting something short. “I will be seeing you.”

“Bye,” Naz offered, but Ollivar was already swinging up into the highest shadows of the Stacks.

After that, sleep began to feel somewhat less like an insurmountable challenge. Nahzar felt himself begin to relax, though the mystery of when he might see Ollivar again and what the librarian might have arranged for him filled him with a little thrill of excitement every time he thought of it.

-

“And so I would greatly appreciate permission to take Nahzar to some of the personnel-only chambers.”

Ollivar pressed his furred hands onto the table, tail swishing as he awaited a reply. There was a long pause from the blue-skinned woman in front of him.

“What?” Ollivar pressed, eventually. “Why are you smirking at me like that?”

Thanar grinned even more widely. “I just haven’t seen this side of you in quite a long time.”

Ollivar frowned at her over his glasses. He wished his ears would stop their giveaway twitching.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

 

-

Naz was deep into a book when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around, wide-eyed.

“Just me,” said Ollivar. Naz released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

“I have permission to take you into one of the back rooms. However it’s an area filled with sensitive information, so I hope you don’t mind but I will have to make use of… this.” He held up a wide strip of black cloth. “May I?”

It took Naz a moment to realise but then he nodded. “Sure, I guess.”

The world went dark as the cloth wound over his eyes, tied into a firm, tight knot at the back of his head.

Then, there was only Ollivar’s hand on his shoulder to guide him. They took slow, careful steps forward. Naz heard the sound of a door opening, a swish of heavy stone on marble floor, and the air around them cooled, sound echoing.

When they finally reached their destination, Ollivar pulled Nahzar to an abrupt stop and his deft fingers untied the blindfold.

The model was huge, an intricate spinning sculpture of gold and glass, runes and complex algorithms etched into every flat surface. Nahzar stood for a long while just staring at it, completely forgetting how closely he stood to his librarian… companion, nemesis? What had they become? He really wasn’t quite sure.

It was quiet and dark and a little cold, and the patterns of all the known moons in the solar system spun above them gently. It should have been a peaceful, awe-inspiring site, and the notes that Naz was able to take for his studies should have set a lot of his academic worries at ease. But that night, alone in their respective beds, neither Nahzar nor Ollivar slept well.

-

The air in the city had been heavy and humid for so long, that it was no surprise when the storm came.

Nahzar had wisely opted to stay inside the library rather than risk making his way home, and so he found Ollivar curled up against a large bay window, he was glad of the company and asked if he could sit beside him.

Ollivar sighed. “It just had to be you, didn’t it. It’s always you who finds me like this.”

“Well, that’s not so bad, is it?”

A long, reluctant pause. “I suppose not.”

Ollivar looked as dejected as the day Naz found him in the library, soaked through from the weather books. Except this time, there was too, a hint of anxiety, or fear. The way Ollivar was curled tightly around himself, as though braced against the storm happening out in front of them, or else the way whenever the thunder began to roll and crash, he flinched. Naz noticed the way his hair and fur stood on end, despite the cloth blanket he was wrapped in.

“Can I ask you something?” Naz ventured, after a while.

Ollivar looked grumpy, huddled into himself against the sounds outside. “It depends what it is.”

“Why am I the only person who keeps bumping into you? No one else ever sees you around here, and I’ve heard you prefer to work behind the scenes.”

Ollivar blushed. “What are you implying?”

Naz smiled a little. “Nothing. I just wondered. Anyway, it’s not important. I guess it won’t matter when I head back to my hometown soon.”

This gave Ollivar pause. “What do you mean?”

“My supervisor is back in Jah Zuh, where I began my studies. In a few weeks, I need to return to deliver my results back to him. Together we will compose the final draft and, with any luck, I will deliver my paper at the Science of Wizarding conference by high summer.”

“A flourishing academic career, indeed.”

“So yeah. I’m not here for much longer, although I will be back at some point. There are still a lot of mysteries to figure out about this place. I haven’t explored nearly half of Ska Reau. And you know, there are always more conclusions to reach about elemental magic and weather-effects of spell casting and things like that.”

Ollivar took a deep breath. It was as though Naz’s news of his temporary stay had stirred something inside of him. At least he said, slowly, “I have come to some conclusions myself.”

“Oh?” Naz asked. “And what are those?”

“It is just a theory,” Ollivar said, his breathing heavy. “But I believe I may be falling for you.” Naz was listening intently, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in the habit that always befell him when concentrating. His eyes were fixed on Ollivar’s tie, staring but not seeing the intricate pattern in the fabric. Instead he slowly began to loosen the knot of silk, then reached for the shirt buttons beneath.

“You are infuriatingly attractive,” Ollivar continued, breath hitching a little as Naz’s fingers grazed his skin. “Strolling in here every day with your shirt sleeves rolled up, lounging across that desk. It’s enough to make a man-”

He was cut off sharply as Naz pulled him into a kiss.

The storm suddenly didn’t seem so bad. In fact, they hardly noticed it and were barely aware when at long last, it passed.  
-

In the scant days and weeks that followed, Nahzar found that Ollivar would appear more and more frequently in the Stacks; just happened to be a few shelves over from where Naz was searching for books, or just so happened to find a tome that Naz had been looking for, or coincidentally find a hoarde of mice at the tables where Naz’s books were piled up.

Soon he would curl and take naps in the sun while Naz studied, and share small bits of cleaning magics that he had honed to keep the place clean in record time. He would sit beside Naz setting helper orbs on new quests throughout the place, and let Nahzar lean on his shoulder when the wizard’s eyes grew tired.

Nazhar wasn’t quite sure when they had entered this relationship of sorts, or even quite what it was. One day, when he asked Ollivar, the librarian simply pulled him into a kiss that was almost sexual in its casualness. Hard and slow, teasing and serious, all at once.

In fact, it was such a good kiss that they decided to do it again.

-

 

At long last, the day arrived.

Nazhar hoisted his final piece of luggage onto the waiting cart. The horse huffed impatiently, stamping one idle foot. The driver would be back shortly, after a quick smoke behind the corner of the inn.

“This is it, then,” Ollivar said stiffly.

Naz shrugged, gave a lazy grin. “For now, yeah. I’ll be up the next few nights writing this all up. My candles will be naught but stubs by the end of it.”

“At least I will know what to get you as a welcome back gift.”

Naz laughed at that, throwing back his head and rubbing a hand tiredly over his eyes.

“That’s very kind of you,” he said, still grinning. “And I am coming back, so don’t worry.”

Ollivar glowered. “I do not worry. Worries are unproductive and useless. I have a million books to sort in the time it takes to worry.”

Naz sighed, took Ollivar’s hand and pulled him close, giving a quick kiss on the cheek. Ollivar blushed and narrowed his eyes, but his hand tightened around Naz’s.

“I just think,” Ollivar said in a rush, then bit his lip and started again. “I hate how much I’m going to pine for you. Like some lovesick youth.”

“I will take frequent breaks from my research to write you long, adoring letters,” Naz said seriously. “In which I will detail how dull Jah-Zuh is without you, and all the things I wish us to do together upon my return.” He smirked. “As it happens, I’m an excellent and imaginative writer.”

Ollivar bristled, darting a glance once more to see who might be listening, but Naz knew he didn’t mind - if the way his tail curled briefly around Naz’s thigh was any indication. They pulled apart as a cough behind them indicated the driver’s return. He tended to his horse, who tossed its head and whinnied gently, and nodded for Naz that they were ready to depart.

“Goodbye then,” Naz said with more cheer than he felt, hoisting himself up onto the cart to sit amongst his things. “I will see you as soon as I am able.”

“Safe travels,” said Ollivar.

He waited on the library steps, watching the cart rattle out onto the open road. Ollivar crouched low, ears flat and fur bathed in sunlight.


End file.
